I dreamt I lost Jordi in Costco. I texted him, telling him I was in front. As soon as I sent that message, my message was auto-corrected to “I’m going home.”
Then my panicked fingers couldn’t find the letters I needed to communicate where I was or what was happening. My keyboard didn’t make sense anymore. Only emojis were available, and I could not back out of that keyboard, all while I kept getting texts from Jordi demanding to know why I’d gone home.
I remember this much because I immediately explained my dream to Jordi when I woke up. Later that night, we shared a joint with my roomie outside and discussed the brain’s inability to incorporate actual text into dreams. I have recurring dreams about struggling to communicate in writing. Often, the text in my dreams resembles that of the fake text in Animal Crossing:
It’s merely a suggestion of text and it frustrates the hell out of me. However, the roomie is convinced he can form text in his dreams.
How about you?
So, with it getting dark outside by 4:30pm, I’ve been getting a heck of a lot more sleep than usual. I’ve dropped the habit of doom-scrolling in bed. I’ve re-adopted my childhood habit of reading before going to sleep. (I also habitually read first thing in the mornings, on the school bus, on the toilet, and in the backseat at night–reading one line at a time as the car passed under street lights.)
Sometime in grade 10, my bookworm self entered a cocoon. I emerged as the MSN butterfly:
School sucked the fun out of reading: I wasn’t allowed to enjoy Orwell’s 1984. The teacher called on me to explain to the class the symbolism behind the paperweight in the novel. I had no clue what it was supposed to represent and felt like an idiot for my inability to formulate an acceptable answer! To my disdain, everything in this novel had a hidden meaning.
What pulled me away from novels was when the internet at home became a novel thing for me. The communication barrier I had in the real world did not exist online. MSN Messenger wasn’t my first instant messaging client– it was ICQ. Anyway, I got sucked into the world wide web and ditched a lot of my long-time hobbies: reading, drawing, and crafting. People were creating free content online to share without the end goal of monetizing it.
Now? We have bots. AI. Social media isn’t so social anymore. I gave up on Instagram in part because I did not like how people used the then-new “stories” feature. Many of my friends were sharing other people’s content. People ran out of energy to leave comments on my posts.
This:
❤️
Wasn’t cutting it for me anymore. Nor was this:
👍🏻
Although it wasn’t any of my friends–to my knowledge–who was doing this, the onslaught of mean comments that appear under any popular Instagrammer’s posts was too much for me. I know I don’t have to read the comments, yet what’s the point of SOCIAL MEDIA when you find yourself avoiding the comments?
I found the Insta account of a woman with one missing front tooth. She was conventionally attractive, and the teeth she did have (most of them!) were white. Many of the comments were about her being a meth user (because meth would decay just ONE tooth). I am someone who is currently missing not one, not two, BUT THREE of my front teeth. It’s not reading these comments directed at someone else about how ugly, gross, and meth-y they look with a tooth missing that gets me down. It is the very existence of people who leave comments like that. How are there so many cunts who can’t keep their opinions to themselves? What change are they hoping to see by telling this woman how unattractive they find her?
I do not feed the trolls. I pay for a WordPress subscription, so neither my readers nor I have to deal with ads. I’ve never made money off my blog, and it’s never been my end goal. I want to share myself, like the good old days of the internet.
So, with the enshittification of the internet, I’ve been reading and crafting a lot more frequently.
I’ve completed my second embroidery project. I want to mount it before sharing it here. The third project is underway. Check out how quickly my collection of embroidery floss has grown!
Embroidery has a meditative quality to it that I enjoy. The progress is slow yet visible. It also comes with the occasional hit of adrenaline when I accidentally stab my thigh with the needle. It is fitting that the theme of my current project is, “You gotta do what makes you happy.” It’s the mantra of one of the characters in Animal Crossing.
Ironically, I’ve been managing life on Garbage Island rather bleakly. This morning, my villagers formed a circle and took hits from a bong.
Octavian is the drug kingpin, Stu is the gangbanger, and Pinky clearly needs help.
My dentist swapped tooth #22 with a titanium post on the 11th. Recovery has been a breeze compared to the previous implants (#11 and #21). It took just three days before I regained the ability to chew food. Since then, I’ve eaten pizza: the first (micro) slice I’ve had in almost seven months! I also have a new flipper to wear.
When I dropped by MEC with some homemade cookies for some old pals, I saw Paddy, and he remarked on how good my teeth looked. I quashed the illusion by popping out the flipper. That “Yay!” turned into an “Aw!” fast. I saw Yann, Zack, and Robbie, too: they all expressed the horrification I experience every time I look in the mirror to remove the flipper for cleaning. Unbeknownst to the general population, I will have an inch-wide gap in my mouth for the next three months.
I take solace in the fact that I can finally eat pizza again! I also ran out of excuses and got back out in Watopia yesterday. However, my new “watt bombs” bar tape makes me feel like a fraud.
Oh well. I have a good 3 months to regain my powers before the weather warms up enough for outdoor riding.
squaremeat.com 